Strings
by Luxi-Masquerade
Summary: Unadulterated Casekiel sweetness (multi-chapter, each chapter based on a random prompt)
1. Rude Magical Wolves

**Promt: _stairs_**

The stairs that curved gracefully to link the two floors of the Annex weren't very steep, but with her visual field entirely occupied by a stack of empty cardboard boxes, Cassandra was finding each step rather challenging.

_Raise left foot. Feel the step __**before**__ shifting weight forward. Then…_

«Uh… Cass? What are you doing?»

Cassandra almost yelped when Ezekiel's voice came from somewhere close behind her, somewhere she was pretty sure was Ezekiel-less one second ago.

_Stealthy thief_ she reminded herself _Scarily-almost-ninja-level stealthy thief._

«Nothing. Just… just taking these upstairs» she replied with studied levity, before reprising her raise-feel-shift routine and conquering another step.

_Twenty-one done, five to go_ counted mentally Cassandra.

«I can _see_ that. Let me rephrase:_ why_ are you doing it in a way that will probably end in a nasty fall and bodily damage?» pressed Ezekiel, as usual managing to lay the snark thick enough to almost cover his sincere concern.

«Oh, that. Uhm, see, it's that…» she started tripping on her tongue.

_This is so stupid._

«Yeeeeeeees?»

«It's just… after that thing with the Birch Witch in Russia» she continued, trying and failing to keep her voice light «I thought that it'd be a good idea for me to learn how to move without being able to see, since apparently magical wolves don't stop chasing people just because they're having mathematical hallucinations»

Behind her, Ezekiel snorted lightly.

«No, they don't. Which I've found terribly rude, by the way» he said «So this is you… practicing?»

«Yeah, I though about using a blindfold but it felt kind of silly»

«But Cass.. you _do_ realize that I'm a world-class thief, right?»

Cassandra frowned in confusion; Ezekiel bragging was nothing new, but usually it had at least _some_ kind of relation to the context.

«So?» she asked.

«A _thief_. You know, someone who _moves in the dark_ a lot because it's not very smart to turn the lights on while you're swiping a Monet?»

_Twenty-four, two to go._

«You stole a Mon… wait. Are you offering to_ teach_ me?» asked Cassandra, turning around in disbelief and almost falling in the process.  
Ezekiel's hand flew to her upper arm, steadying her with a firm grip.

«Whoa there» he said releasing her once she had regained her footing «Yeah, well. I would not like an encore of what happened in Russia. And you could call me _sensei._ Or _master,_ yeah, _master_ sounds good.» he added with a smirk that she couldn't see but could picture effortlessly.

And while his tone was perfectly tuned on "smug and complacent", Cassandra remembered all too well how he had grabbed her hand _the instant _he realized she couldn't see the real world anymore, almost hauling her with him as they fled through the forest, wolves hot on their trail.

_Twenty-five, one to go._

With a grin so wide that she was glad the cardboard boxes where hiding her face, she took the last step.

«Ah, well, I can't really refuse if a _world-class thief_ is offering, can I?»


	2. Idly Hoping

**Prompt: Pound cake**

Cassandra plopped down on the grass next to Ezekiel, a satisfied smile on her lips.

«You see? You did good. I _am_ an awesome master» gloated the thief handing her a glass of iced tea.

«Teacher. You are a good _teacher_» she rectified accepting the offer with a grateful nod.

«So you're admitting I'm good, right?»

Cassandra made a show of rolling her eyes, but her smile remained firmly in place.

ooo

Truth was, Ezekiel actually _was_ a great teacher: he knew what he was talking about when he said that the biggest hurdle was the fear of having your sight ripped away, because it's the kind of fear that glues your feet to the ground and kicks all rational thinking out of the window.  
That's why that morning he had placed a blindfolded Cassandra at the center of the lawn outside the Annex telling her to just _walk._  
At first it was bad: she was almost paralyzed, moving one careful inch at the time with her arms flailing wildly around in a desperate research for information; her body had felt funny, as if continually out of balance, and her mind kept on filling the daunting blackness with trees that she knew weren't there.

After a while though it got better, a lot better.  
It took some time but by the end of the session she was strolling around leisurely, trusting Ezekiel to keep her from bumping into any obstacle nose-first.

Deeming that his pupil had made enough progress for that day, Ezekiel had demanded rest and food and had dragged her under the shade of a great oak, where the picnic basket Cassandra had packed for lunch was just waiting to be raided.

ooo

«Oi» spluttered Ezekiel with his mouth impossibly full «What's this stuff? It tastes like _heaven_»

Cassandra eyed the mauled slice of cake that he was holding.

«Oh, that's pound cake. I bake that a lot, the 1:1:1:1 ratio of the ingredients is very relaxing» she explained, tempted to take a bite herself but deciding to to for a cucumber-mayo-shrimps sandwich.

«You bake this to relax? Ok, it's settled, next time you're coming to my place to "relax"» he declared wolfing down another generous slice in two neat bites.

«Pound cake is really, really easy to make. You could try it yourself, if you want» proposed Cassandra, chuckling a bit at his enthusiasm.

Ezekiel snorted as if the mere idea were ridiculous.

«Me? I don't cook. Ever. Unless you count take-out or pressing "start" on the microwave as cooking» he stated firmly like it was something to be proud of.

An image of a caroling, bouncing Ezekiel baking Christmas cookies in a frilly apron popped instantly in Cassandra's head.

«Well» she said without even bothering to cover up her teasing smirk «We know for sure that you can make some seriously yummy cookies. What did you say the secret ingredient was? Oh right...» the smirk turned into a full, impish grin as she quoted:

« ..."_baking them with_ **love**"»

Ezekiel shot her and offended glare and squared his shoulders like an indignant parakeet fluffing its feathers.

«Situations involving brain-muddling magic hats don't count» he chided sourly «And for that below-the-belt jab, I am lawfully authorized to use your legs as a pillow for my nap» he proclaimed.

Without waiting for her reply he proceeded to lay down with his head resting on her skirt-covered thighs, sporting an ostensive pout.

«Please, make yourself comfortable» grumbled Cassandra, but she didn't actually mind.

She loved how she never felt skittish or jumpy when close contact was involved between them, it was an ease that she shared with a very small number of people.  
Like... three.  
Maybe.

«Oh I'm comfortable all right» yawned Ezekiel, sounding as drowsy as she felt.

Cassandra looked down on the young thief: sprawled on the grass, a contented glow on his face, an arm lazily draped over his eyes against the light that filtered through the leaves, he was the perfect picture of "not a care in the world".  
In a sudden rush of fondness, Cassandra brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead and settled back against the oak grabbing her glass of tea.

ooo

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, half-dozing in the summer light soaking their bones, Cassandra sitting and Ezekiel resting on her lap; and just as the sun began lower towards the horizon, Cassandra found herself idly hoping that the next time her senses cross-wired while thinking about ratios like _1:1:1:1_ they'd bring up that moment: the sweet taste of cake, the cicadas buzzing, the summer sun and a light, familiar pressure on her skin.


	3. You should probably hide the glass

**Prompt: Compilation**

For what felt like the hundredth time (it wasn't; just the twenty-eighth) Cassandra checked the table, the kitchen, the living room and her image in the mirror.

_Everything's ready_ she told herself _Don't overthink this. It's just dinner between friends. A dinner without a real reason. At my place. Between... friends._

She was totally overthinking it.

Cassandra glanced at the clock hanging over the fridge and almost banged her head against the wall when she saw that it was only 6 pm.  
There was still a full hour of waiting ahead and she wasn't a hundred percent sure she was going to survive it.  
Just as she was about to start another round of fussing around the sofa to eliminate non-existing wrinkles, the shrill call of her doorbell had her bolt to the entrance in two quick jumps.

Thinking it would be her neighbor – the woman really needed to buy her own sugar, by the way – Cassandra was more than a little shocked when she peered into the peephole and saw a bored-looking Ezekiel standing in the corridor.

«Ezekiel...?» she began swinging the door open, but before she could ask why in the world would _Ezekiel Jones_, Mr. Fashionably-late-is-me, be a whole hour early, he shoved a bottle into her arms.

«Oi» he greeted letting himself in «Is the party here? I brought wine»

In the couple of second it took Cassandra to recover and close the door behind her, Ezekiel had made himself at home, sauntering around her living room and shamelessly prodding her stuff.

«So, this is it then? It's tiny» he mused as if surprised «Like... one tenth of my place».

With her mind still trying to catch up, Cassandra's mouth went on autopilot and shot a peeved _"Well, sorry if I couldn't afford a penthouse with a janitor's salary"_ that Ezekiel shrugged off with an amused smile directed at her Marie Curie poster.

«Nah, it's cozy. Very... you. Besides...» he added smugly as his eyes trailed to the trophy he had stolen for her, proudly exposed on the bookshelf «... I can see that you've made some smart furnishing choices»

«Uhm... Ezekiel? What are you doing here? You guys weren't supposed to come until seven» finally asked Cassandra, not exactly sure of what was happening.

«I wanted to get some of the good appetizers before Eve comes in and eats them all» he replied distractedly, absorbed in a skeptic scrutiny of her math books «And I figured you'd be stressing out about the whole "first time having people over" thing, you know, agonizing over details and such. But mostly for the appetizers, I mean... can you believe how much that woman is able to eat? I swear she must have some kind of pocket dimension in her stomach or something. Hey, don't you have anything fun to read?»

Ezekiel was going to have to wait a little if he wanted to get an answer from her - or any kind of reaction, really.

Floored by a tidal wave of jumbled emotions, she was standing near the sofa with a ridiculous "o" frozen on her lips, desperately clutching the cool bottle of wine against her chest as if to use it as a shield.

Sometimes, more and more frequently as of late, Cassandra wondered why she wouldn't let herself fall for the thief.

It would have been so easy to take all the comfort, the ease, the laughter, the closeness, and let it go to her head, to read something more than a simple friendship into it.  
It would have been so easy to let herself notice that Ezekiel was wearing a slightly more refined attire that evening, those dark denims doing all sorts of really nice things to his figure.

It would have been so, so easy... except for the part where it would have also been her worst idea _ever_ (well, second worst idea ever; she doubted anything could outrank that whole _trust-the-Serpent-Brotherhood-and-almost-kill-Flynn-in-the-process_ ordeal).  
Ezekiel was the first real friend Cassandra had in years, probably the best friend she was ever going to find, and a little more than eight months ago that alone was more than she was even daring to hope for.

She was _not_ going to mess it up with her less than stellar skills in relationships, no siree.  
Friends: that was good, more than good actually, and that was it. End of story.

But then Ezekiel, because he was born to be a confusing pain in the butt, _had_ to go and do things.

Little things, like making a fifty-two hours long compilation of music that they both enjoyed to avoid bickering in the car.  
Big, should-only-happen-in-rom-coms things like stealing trophies for her or saying "I'll be your other senses" managing - only the Lord knows how - not to sound horribly cheesy.  
Or things that were neither big nor small but still spoke volumes, like showing up early because he_ knew_ she'd be one step away from freaking out at the idea of finally having friends to invite to her home.

And when he did these _things, _the "just friends" plan seemed ridiculously wrong, incomplete, timid, lacking, _cowardly._  
Right now Cassandra's chest felt too tight, her head too light, like she was standing on the edge of a very, very tall cliff, ready to leap.  
And it scared her, it scared her to her bones just _how much_ she wanted to jump and see where the fall would take her.

Which would have been stupid - no, **STUPID, **it was the kind of idiocy that deserved capitals - because it only took a glance to Ezekiel to see that he was feeling absolutely _none _of her emotional vertigo.

In fact, he was his usual breezy, obnoxiously cocky self as he decided that the lack of comic books on her shelves was a crime worth disowning.

«Come on, nothing?» he protested, thoroughly horrified «Is "50 culinary uses for blueberries" really the only non-sciency thing you've got? We have to _talk._ Oh, and by the way» he added in a surreptitiously conversational tone «once we're done with the wine, you should probably uhm... you know... hide the bottle. Or crush it in very, very small pieces and_ then_ hide it.»

Still caught up in her own spiraling thoughts, Cassandra instinctively glanced down and when she took the first good look at the "present" Ezekiel had brought, her eyes went wide as saucers.  
She was no expert in rare beverages, but it is was rather obvious that the item she was still holding in a death grip was worth several times her apartment.  
Heck, several times the whole building, probably.

He had come with a stolen bottle of wine.

Just like that, all of the tearing tension she had been holding dissipated in a bubbling, almost cathartic laughter.

Oh yes, _falling_ for Ezekiel Jones was a bad, bad idea, because he was an endless fountain of troubles and she didn't want to be girl that pines for the bad boy. But being his _friend_... that was an experience that Cassandra was not going to let slip through her fingers, not for the world.

Friends. That was good, more than good, and it was - had to be - enough.

And the small, faint voice in her head that chanted _"yeah, sure, you keep on telling yourself that"_?

Well, there was a whole lot of stolen, priceless wine to drown it with.

After all, someone had to drink the evidence away, right?


	4. Only doing it for the Jacuzzi

**Prompt: western**

«So? How was it?»

«Meh. It's not really my thing, I mean...»

«Not your... you have no _soul_»

They were at Ezekiel's place (which was, kind of unsurprisingly, a _real _penthouse. Like, with the jacuzzi, the minibar, the ginormous entertainment station and everything), the credits for the first episode of _Firefly _fading slowly on the screen, and Cassandra was having a bit of fun at her host's expenses.

It was well within her rights actually, since the idea of taking a crash course in _History of Sci-Fi _hadn't been hers: it was the result of Ezekiel getting tired of spending so much time with someone who didn't "appreciate his immensely witty Star Trek references".

When Cassandra had asked why they weren't starting with a big name, like _X-Files _or _Doctor Who, _instead of a relatively obscure show that got canceled after one season, Ezekiel had launched himself in what felt like a slightly rehearsed speech.

« _Firefly _is the perfect gateway» he had explained with all the authority of a Harvard professor «It's a cult but it's fairly recent, it's not too visionary, it's heavily character oriented... all in all, approachable for a neophyte. And, more importantly» he had shot her a pointed glare «while it's a great show it's not my favorite. So even if you do the thing where you complain about every science fact that the writers got wrong, I won't feel _too_ compelled to call you a blasphemous unbeliever. If you ever try to do that with the Doctor though, I might never talk to you again.»

Truth to be told, that first episode had Cassandra pretty intrigued: the plot was compelling, the writing solid, the cast had some really good chemistry, and the odd mix of western and sci-fi was weirdly charming.

But Ezekiel being so touchy and protective of his soft, geeky side was – for lack of better words – _adorable. _Plus the chance to be the one doing the teasing for once was just too good to pass up.

«Weeeeeeeeeeell...» she stalled, putting up an unconvinced face.

«Oh come on, you loved it, I _know _it. You were glued to the screen the whole time!» protested Ezekiel.

«Well, you know, the mercenary guy – Jayne, right? He is kind of... ruggedly attractive» she admitted half-jokingly, sheepishly lowering her eyes and thus missing Ezekiel frowning at her for the briefest second.

«Really? Watching for the eye candy? Didn't think that the ape-brained manly man would be your type» he retorted curtly.

Cassandra's detached facade dissolved into a fit of uncontrolled giggling at his disapproving tone.

«Oh my god, you _really_ take this stuff seriously, don't you?» she said with a barely contained smirk «Fine, fine, you were right: _Firefly _is awesome, spaceships are cool, I'm completely hooked, can we _please _watch the second episode?»

Ezekiel's smug grin came back instantly and with a vengeance.

«I _knew_ it. So, you up for a full-season marathon?» he asked with a challenging spark in his eyes.

«If I say yes, can I try the jacuzzi?»

«If you say yes _and_ promise to make some of that cake of yours for breakfast, I will _buy_ you a jacuzzi»

«You mean _steal_»

«Irrelevant»

«... Just play it»

Thirteen episodes, one movie, and a long, heavenly soak in the Jacuzzi later, Cassandra was nagging the thief to watch _Quantum Leap._

Ezekiel realized that he had created a monster, and didn't think he could be any prouder.

ooo

**_A.N: ESL writer without a beta. If you find any mistakes or awkward sentences, pointing them out would be a tremendous help._**


	5. Scary scary words

**Prompt: journalist**

When she stepped out of the bathroom clad in her pajamas and hair still wet from the shower, Cassandra was expecting to see her ritual before-bed glass of milk waiting for her on the coffee table.

She was _not _expecting to see Ezekiel lounging casually on her sofa, engrossed in whatever game he was playing on his phone, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be there well past midnight and uninvited.

The question "_how _did you get in here" was discarded from the start – world-class thief and all, she doubted that breaking into a cheap condo could be much of a challenge.

The "_why _are you here" was also pretty easy to guess: it only took her a glance to the hard line of his mouth, the vicious way he was tapping his fingers on the screen, the tense angle of his neck.

Oh, she knew _why _he was there, and a painful knot settled in her throat as she pushed aside her surprise and sat beside him on the small couch, their shoulders barely brushing.

«Hey» she greeted tentatively.

«Hey» he replied not taking his eyes away from the screen «You've been in the bathroom for ages. Five more minutes and I was going to pick the lock to check on you».

It was probably meant as a joke, but Ezekiel's voice was so hollow that it didn't sound like one at all.

«Long day, long shower» she murmured quietly, folding her hands in her lap.

A crushing silence fell on the room like the swing of an axe, so heavy that it seemed to swallow even the chirping noises from Ezekiel's phone.

_Long day._

Well, that was an understatement.

But really, what do you call a day where the price of success was a life?

«It wasn't my fault» barked suddenly Ezekiel, not looking at her, the anguished anger betraying the fact that he was about to break «I stole the bloody silver feather right from the Enchanted Swan's bloody _arse_» he barreled on, the words bursting out of his mouth as if he needed space in his chest to breathe again «I did it right, nobody asked that stupid kid to butt in and get eaten to buy _me_ time, nobody... I...»

The phone, thrown with savage force, shattered against the floor.

Cassandra wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and tell him that he was right, that it wasn't his fault, that the young journalist had sacrificed himself to be _absolutely _sure that those twelve little girls could be saved. But she didn't want to spook the thief, knowing that sweet, empty words would just push him away.

So she did the same thing she had done the only other time she had seen Ezekiel lost like this: right after the huge fiasco with Tesla's lamps, when he was shaken to the core and ready to bolt because _failure, caring _and_ responsibility_ where unknown, scary words.

She reached for his wrist and rested her fingers there, her thumb drawing slow, slow circles on the back of his hand.

Just a quiet offer of comfort.

_I'm here. _

A silent plea.

_Don't run away. Run to me._

Ezekiel looked at her for the first time since he came into her apartment.

His face was unreadable, his eyes black holes that searched her face in a way that made Cassandra hold her breath, and then he leaned in.

After the party, Cassandra had been good: she had squashed that flicker of romantic attraction she had for the thief with methodical precision, and had convinced herself to be almost off that dangerous path.

But having him so close, so intense – and what a rare sight it was, an intense Ezekiel – with his eyes trailing briefly along the lock of her damp hair swirling down her neck...

Completely inappropriate as it was, considering the moment, that flicker came back and flared up to a full-blown fire, making her shudder when she realized that she could almost feel his breath on her cheeks.

And then he retreated, leaving Cassandra trying to cover her gasp for air.

«Thanks» he said somberly, the tension that had kept his body taut as a bowstring finally drained «For, you know. Not throwing my whiny burglar's ass out. And for letting me crash here tonight»

Still frantically trying to recover her wits, Cassandra just stared at him.

«You want to... sleep here?» she repeated, caught off-guard.

«Why yes, thank you for offering»

The smug smirk he flashed her wasn't quite as bright as usual, but it was more like him than he had been all day, so she'd take it.

Forcing her ill-timed impure thoughts in the back of her head, Cassandra playfully swatted his upper arm.

«Smartass»

«You love it»

With just a touch of utter panic, Cassandra admitted to herself that yes, she did love it.

And that she was so screwed for it.

ooo

_**A.N.**_

_**1) ESL writer without a beta. If you find out anything wrong with grammar and such, pointing it out will make you fabulous.**_

_**2)Wangst. I try to avoid it and then it sucks me right back in.**_


End file.
